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Spirit Touched - Chapter 1: Little Prince

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 AO3

Uhhhh so this is the first time I’ve written and posted something for ATLA, and of course it wound up being because of a fanart of a fanfic that I adore. Basically, yesterday I saw this art drawn by my pal @agent-jaselin. And that art appeared to apply one of my all-time favorite tropes (de-aging) to one of my all-time favorite fics (Salvage, by @muffinlance). And dagnabit, I...got inspired.

So, without further ado, here is my interpretation of a theoretical Zuko being de-aged after Chapter 8 of Salvage. Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

Praying to the spirits for guidance was a mistake. Hakoda could see that now. He pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to dispel the headache already forming.

This is what I get for thinking the spirits might make things easier. Their actions are rarely convenient for us mortals.

“Bring him to Kustaa,” Hakoda said after a moment. Toklo nodded and hurried for the healer’s room, his friend in his arms, buried in a pile of furs. Bato looked at Hakoda. He raised an eyebrow silently.

“That’s new,” he said. The casual tone made Hakoda’s headache pound in full force. Bato was treating this as just another matter of fact. Like seeing the former Prince of the Fire Nation reduced to a toddler overnight was just as common as…

Hakoda’s head hurt too much to even think of something that was common.

“Yes,” Hakoda finally said. “It is new.” He was struggling to align the grumpy teenager of yesterday with the toddler he’d just seen drooling in his sleep.

“How could this have happened?” Bato asked quietly.

“I asked the spirits for help last night.” Hakoda scowled. It was help he’d desperately needed, after Zuko had broken down in front of him and renounced his crown, maybe even renounced his own nation. And it was help he was obviously not getting. “Apparently, they didn’t want to make things easier.”

“The spirits work in mysterious ways,” Bato said. “It’s best to trust in their judgement. Eventually, you’ll understand why they’ve done…this.” Hakoda eyed his second-in-command.

“Since when are you so spiritual?”

“Since meeting the bridge between the spirit world and ours,” Bato said flatly.

“Fair enough.” Hakoda sighed. “I should go speak with Kustaa.”

“I might be best if you were there when the little prince woke up,” Bato agreed. He thumped Hakoda on the back. “At least you’re good with children!”

-----

Unlike every other day since he’d recovered from his illness, Zuko didn’t wake up with the sun. If he didn’t remember how much his own children slept at this age, Hakoda would have been concerned. He sat in the infirmary, having a hushed conversation with Kustaa while Zuko continued to snore. The sight of a toddler swimming in furs was painfully cute and reminded Hakoda of when Sokka was young.

“I’ll be able to get a better examination done once he’s awake,” Kustaa said in a low voice. “But from what I can tell, he’s perfectly healthy.”

“He’s a toddler,” Hakoda said.

“A healthy one.” Kustaa glanced at Zuko. “By my estimation, about four years old. So, almost out of the toddler years.” Zuko rolled over in his sleep, mumbling something. Kustaa and Hakoda held their breaths. Zuko didn’t wake up. “From what he’s told me, he didn’t get that scar until a few years ago, so I’m not completely sure why he still has it.”

“The spirits are testing me,” Hakoda moaned. Kustaa chuckled.

“No, Chief. The spirits are testing all of us with this stunt.” He sighed and leaned back. “Now would be a good time to have a waterbending healer, to examine his spirit and chi. But the odds of finding one of those…”

“Aren’t good unless we stumble across a Northern Tribe ship,” Hakoda said, finishing the healer’s sentence. Kustaa nodded. There was movement from Zuko’s pile of furs. Hakoda and Kustaa looked over. A small hand fought its way out, followed by a head. Zuko’s regular scowl was replaced by confusion as he stared at Hakoda and Kustaa, who most likely seemed larger to him than they had yesterday.

“You’re up,” Kustaa said calmly. Zuko shoved away the furs he was buried in. His eyes widened at the sight of his body. Hakoda grimaced.

There was a split second of dumbfounded silence before the screaming started.

-----

Kustaa wasn’t sure whether he preferred Zuko like this or not. On the one hand, it would be difficult to run the ship with a literal toddler on board. But on the other hand, it was much easier to handle Zuko. He could literally be picked up and carried somewhere else if needed.

“This doesn’t fit right!” Zuko whined. Kustaa glanced over at his young charge. Zuko had insisted on dressing himself in the smallest shirt they could find on the ship. That smallest shirt came down to past his feet.

Then again, so will everything else. Kustaa beckoned Zuko to come. Zuko scowled but walked over. Kustaa fought back an amused grin at the firebender’s toddling gait. While not as severe as it would be for someone younger, it was still evident.

“Nothing is going to fit right until either we adjust clothes to fit you or purchase ones already in your size,” Kustaa said. He adjusted the shirt as best he could by pinning it up and wrapping rope around Zuko’s waist to act as a belt. “Now that you’re dressed, we need to go see the chief.” Zuko’s eyes went wide in horror.

“No! I’m not going outside like this.”

“Everyone knows what’s happened to you,” Kustaa said, getting to his feet. He took Zuko’s hand. It was small and warm. “Most of them saw you already, and the rest were informed by either the chief or Bato.”

“…Fine,” Zuko grumbled. Kustaa led him out onto the deck. The moment eyes landed on him, Zuko dropped Kustaa’s hand to hide behind his legs.

“Wow, you’re barely older than the babes we left at the South Pole,” Panuk remarked. Zuko didn’t move or speak.

“I think he’s adorable,” Toklo said firmly, marching over. He crouched down to Zuko’s eye-height. “I always wanted a baby brother.”

“I’m not a baby,” Zuko snapped. At his high-pitched, youthful voice, Toklo beamed. “I’m sixteen.”

“Four,” Kustaa corrected. Zuko scowled.

“Either way, that’s not a baby.”

“Aw, no need to pout,” Toklo cooed. Zuko’s scowl deepened. “It’ll be fun having a little kid on board.”

“Will it?” rumbled Aake. “We only let men join the crew for a reason.” Zuko let out a small squeak as Toklo lifted him up and held him out for Aake to see.

“Try saying ‘no’ to this face,” Toklo said. Aake’s deadpan expression didn’t change.

“No.”

“Were you saying ‘no’ to Zuko or ‘no’ to saying ‘no’ to him?” Toklo asked. Aake shrugged and continued to sharpen his spear. Zuko squirmed in Toklo’s hold.

“Let me go!” he snarled. He broke loose, falling to the deck with a soft thump. Kustaa waited for the tears that would come from a toddler being dropped. But Zuko didn’t cry. His eyes were glistening in a way that suggested he was holding back tears, but he remained otherwise stoic. Kustaa filed this observation away for now. He walked over to Zuko and pulled him up.

“The chief needs to talk to you, remember?” he said. Zuko nodded silently, allowing Kustaa to lead him to Hakoda’s cabin.

-----

The moment they set foot inside the cabin, Kustaa could tell Hakoda was going to struggle with not seeing Sokka every time he looked at Zuko. At least Bato was there to help mediate things.

“Take a seat,” Hakoda said. Zuko toddled over to the chair he normally sat in. After a moment, he climbed onto the seat with obvious difficulty. Bato stifled a laugh. “Zuko, we’re not sure why the spirits have done this to you.”

“Probably because they hate me,” Zuko muttered, crossing his arms.

“Well, no matter why you’ve been turned into a toddler, the fact of the matter is that it has happened to you. Generally, we don’t allow children your age to be on our ships.” Zuko paled and opened his mouth to make his case. Hakoda held up a hand. “Given your…extenuating circumstances, we won’t be dropping you off at the next port or something like that. Who knows, maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow sixteen again. Until we have a better understanding of your condition, including how long it might last, you’ll be staying on the Akhlut. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Zuko said with a nod, visibly relieved.

“Good. Now, just because you’ll still be on board, don’t expect things to stay the same for you. You won’t be required to do any chores on the ship. If you want to help, you can, but the crew has been instructed to stop you from overexerting yourself or doing something that might hurt you at your current age.” Zuko’s eyes boggled. “Additionally, you’ll be sleeping in the infirmary with Kustaa for the foreseeable future. It will be more comfortable for you.”

“Understood,” Zuko mumbled.

“Another change is that you will be expected to do what a child your age must in order to remain healthy,” Hakoda said. Zuko tilted his head curiously. “In particular, you will have to take naps.”

“What?!” Zuko shrieked.

“We can’t have a cranky, overtired firebender on our wooden ship,” Bato said. Zuko crossed his arms, scowling.

“Those are the major changes. We will adjust things as we see fit,” Hakoda said.

“Okay.” Zuko fidgeted in his seat, an abrupt reminder to the men in the room of how hyperactive toddlers were. “Um, about my clothes…”

“Go see Panuk and Toklo. They offered to try to cobble together something for you until we can make port,” Hakoda said. Zuko ducked his head.

“Thank you.” He slipped off his chair and left the cabin, his head held high in an attempt to maintain any dignity. Once the door closed, Kustaa looked at Hakoda and Bato.

“He’s not going to act like a toddler if he can avoid it,” Kustaa said. “He’s almost certainly going to resist the reduced workload and naps.” Hakoda nodded.

“I agree,” he said solemnly.

“This won’t end well,” Bato said, shaking his head. “There’s a reason we wouldn’t normally have someone his age on board.” There was a loud ruckus from the deck; clattering, heavy footsteps, and Toklo’s voice.

“Come on, Zuko, it’ll look so cute!”

“That,” Bato said, “is the reason.”

-----

Hakoda begrudgingly agreed with Toklo’s assessment. Zuko was cuter than he had any right looking, walking around the ship with a blanket draped over his shoulders like a cape. According to Toklo, Zuko had begun shivering while he and Panuk were working on finding something for the new toddler to wear. Toddlers tended to get cold easier, and Hakoda supposed that being a firebender might make Zuko more vulnerable to cold as is.

“Are you hungry yet, little prince?” Panuk asked. Zuko looked up from his fumbling attempts at making a net.

“Don’t call me that,” he snarled. Panuk patted Zuko’s bald head.

“All right. You hungry yet, Zuko?” he asked. Zuko’s stomach rumbled loudly. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Panuk got up. “Come on. Let’s fill you up with sea prunes.” Zuko got to his feet and eagerly followed Panuk. Hakoda watched Zuko toddle across the deck and to the kitchen.

“You’re getting soft, Chief, I can tell,” Aake, standing nearby, said quietly. Hakoda looked at him. Aake sighed. “But I’m getting soft, too. We left when Sitka was about that age.” A weary and wistful expression settled on Aake’s face. “I miss my son.”

“I miss mine as well,” Hakoda said quietly. Suddenly, Zuko burst onto the deck, his arms full of sea prunes, running from Panuk.

“Hey! You don’t get all of them!” Panuk protested, coming onto the deck as well. Zuko merely sped up. Hakoda and Aake’s eyes widened as they realized the former Fire Nation Prince was giggling as Panuk chased him. Zuko’s lighthearted, childish peals of laughter filled the air. He rushed belowdeck, his blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. Panuk followed. A silence fell. After a moment, Tuluk, who was swabbing the deck, spoke.

“Well, that was adorable.”

-----

Hakoda expected Zuko to hide belowdeck, embarrassed by behaving like a toddler. But Zuko returned to the deck after a while, seemingly unaware of how childish he had acted. He walked up to various crewmen in an attempt to do some of his old chores. Each time, he was turned away. His regular scowl settled on his face, chubby with baby fat.

“Can’t do anything,” Zuko muttered as he stalked around the deck, his blanket trailing behind him. He finally sat down next to the mast, pouting.

“It’s good that you can’t do anything,” Hakoda said, walking over. Zuko looked up. “Leaving a task in the middle of doing it doesn’t usually produce good results.”

“Why would I not complete a task?” Zuko asked. He crossed his arms. “I’m not really a child, I can focus.”

“You’d need to take a break for your nap,” Hakoda informed him. Zuko’s eyes widened. “I saw you yawning just now. You’re tired.”

“No, I’m not!” Zuko said, jumping to his feet. He shed his blanket cape. “I won’t nap.”

“You agreed to take naps.”

“Only if I needed them. I don’t. I’m not tired.” Zuko’s argument sounded eerily like those Sokka made as a child.

“There’s nothing for you to do anyways,” Hakoda pointed out. He reached for Zuko’s hand. Zuko darted away before he could be grabbed. Unfortunately for his millionth escape attempt, Aake was nearby. Aake picked Zuko up as he ran past.

“Let me go!” Zuko said, twisting in Aake’s grip. “Let me go!” A breath of flame escaped from his mouth. He suddenly stilled. Aake handed him over to Hakoda. Zuko didn’t make a peep as Hakoda carried him across the deck and into the infirmary. Kustaa looked up from the book he was reading.

“Is it time for my nephew’s nap?” he asked. Hakoda nodded and set Zuko down.

“Sleep,” he said firmly to Zuko. “That’s an order.” Zuko nodded, visibly cowed.

“Yes, chief,” he mumbled. Hakoda turned to leave. “Sir, I apologize for firebending earlier,” Zuko said suddenly. Hakoda looked over his shoulder at the toddler.

“You firebending on accident wouldn’t have anything to do with agreeing to nap, would it?” he asked.

“Uncle says that sleep works in concert with meditation to control your inner fire. Children who are too young to know how to meditate only avoid burning down their house by taking…naps.” Zuko scowled slightly. “That’s the excuse he gives for being so lazy.” Kustaa chuckled softly.

“Judging by what happened on deck, your uncle might be right,” Hakoda said, feigning a casual tone. Zuko nodded. “Sleep well, Zuko.”

Hakoda poked his head into the infirmary after he had checked on the rest of the crewmen. Some of the crew felt Zuko’s current size was an improvement. Hakoda could see where they were coming from. Zuko was yet again buried in a pile of furs, his minute arms wrapped around Scuttles.

“He went down almost right after you left, chief,” Kustaa said quietly. “I didn’t even need to make him any tea.”

“Hopefully he won’t argue against naps in the future.” Hakoda continued to watch Zuko sleep. The toddler let out a soft snore. “It’s foolish to expect that he’ll ask for a nap, though.” Kustaa nodded.

“I would agree with that.” Zuko rolled over in his sleep with another snore.

“Let me know if anything happens,” Hakoda said.

“Of course,” Kustaa said. He picked up another book, opened it, and began to read. Hakoda left the infirmary, closing the door behind him as softly as he could.